Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (6 page)

“I’m not drunk now,” I remind her, my voice deepening. “Still think I’m cute?”

She doesn’t move, her large eyes fixing on mine.

Before I can figure out a reason why I shouldn’t, I lean in and kiss her.

CHAPTER 6

Sol

My eyes close as Finn’s mouth captures mine. I don’t expect him to have soft lips, not given how tough I know he is. Yet he does. They brush against mine, sweeping, teasing, playing. But as the heat between us surges, and before the kiss can really begin, it ends.

He pulls away, his eyes searching mine. He’s not smiling. He’s not joking. He simply stares at me like he’s not sure what just happened. “That’s still not the kiss you owe me,” he says, cementing me in place.

“It’s not?” I ask, kicking myself for not coming up with something better. In my defense, those are some damn fine lips.

He grins in that way that’s so Finn: playful yet totally sexy. “No. The kiss you owe me is way hotter than that,” he says with a wink.

“Finn . . . I can’t,” I say, shaking my head and wishing I could say different. God, he’s so cute. Why does he have to be so cute! I haven’t had sex in a year, and decent sex in even longer. But this is possibly the worst time to allow anyone into my life.

“You want me, don’t you?”

I do a double-take. “What?” I ask, thinking it’s totally unfair he can read my mind.

He puts his hand on my knee. “It’s why you came out here, isn’t it? You needed to cool off your scorching womanly parts before you embarrassed yourself and straddled me in front of your family.”

I bust out laughing, because around him I can’t seem to help it. “Oh, my God. Could you be any cockier?”

“Is that a challenge?” he asks, leaning in.

I press my hand against his chest, trying not to think too much about the hard muscles beneath my touch and how his description of my needy girl parts were spot on. “Finn, I told you. I’m going through a lot right now.”

“Okay,” he says, edging slightly away.

He backs off. It’s what I asked for, but I can’t suppress the twinge of disappointment it causes. Since starting my master’s program, I haven’t had many opportunities to meet men, especially men who spark my interest like Finn. And even though it’s more than obvious I like him. I
can’t
like him. Not now.

“Is it Sofia?” he asks after a moment.

“What?” I question, brushing my hair away from my eyes.

“I know you love her, but it’s okay to be struggling with the fact that she’s married and you’re practically an old maid.”

Seeing how we’re the same age and he damn well knows it, once more I grin. “If I’m an old maid, what does that make you?”

“Sadly a hot stud too many women want to drag to bed.” He adjusts his position, placing his ankle over his knee. “You should feel sorry for me.”

“Oh, I do feel sorry for you.” I tap his arm. “There, there, you poor sexy and studly man.”

“So now I’m sexy?” he asks. “Not just cute?”

I return my attention back toward the crackling flames, well aware of my widening grin, and damn it, how good it feels to smile and mean it.

“So do you want to get married?”

“Like, ever?” I clarify. At his nod, I crinkle my nose. “I don’t know. I’ve never been serious about anyone to consider it. Mostly, though, I’m too young to care.”

“Do you mean that?” he asks, flashing me that dimple.

“Of course I do,” I tell him. I tilt my head when he laughs. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“It’s just weird you’ve never thought about it,” he says.

“Why?” I press.

“Come on, Sol. Don’t pretend like there aren’t those crazy bitches out there who want to get married the moment they’re legal and end up with some asshole who treats them like shit―or worse, steals their cars and go on a cross-country murdering spree.”

“Could happen,” he adds, when I simply look at him.

I shouldn’t egg Finn on, but it feels good to feel good. “As much as all those murderous rampaging potential grooms in your mind sound appealing, no, I’m not in a rush to get married.”

“Good to know,” he says, his hand finding my knee.

“Um. What are you doing?” I ask, gaping at the size of his hand and trying my best to ignore the tingles his touch stirs.

“Just trying to keep warm. You know, body heat and all that good stuff.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” I ask. “I have too much going on in my life.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally heard you,” he says, grinning widely. “But it’s winter. It’s either put my hand here or someplace else.” He lifts his brows, his irises shimmering with heat that’s not coming from the hearth. “The choice is yours, beautiful.”

Beautiful? The combination of his words, that deep voice, and the panty-melting look he’s pegging me with . . . Lord, help me. Finn knows exactly how to make a woman swoon. I sigh. In a perfect world I’d probably let him do more than touch my knee. But my world is far from perfect and my guess is that his is, too.

So even though I shouldn’t, I give his hand a squeeze, offering him and me a little bit of perfect in our less than perfect worlds.

In the silence that follows, night finishes overtaking the sky, until all that’s left is a black canvas and hint of stars. Ironic, considering that’s how my life has been since my mother was first diagnosed with schizophrenia: bits of light often dominated by total darkness. She was doing better, still not herself, but okay. I didn’t expect her anger or for her to hit me the way that she did, just like I didn’t expect her to be committed yet again.

For a long time, I was worried I’d suffer some kind of mental collapse. It’s not improbable considering how depressed I was following her suicide attempt a few years prior. It was a time I should have been out of my mind happy. I had just turned fifteen, I was going to prom with my big crush, and I had friends I absolutely adored.

Instead I spent prom night, sobbing in the waiting room, praying my mother would live. Like the other day, she had mistook me for her dead sister, and seeing me in my dress triggered a memory that compelled her to end her life. So when she calls me “Laurita” it’s not a good sign. It’s that red flag that screams a warning and tells me exactly how bad she is.

I don’t admit as much to Finn. Instead I simply relish his company. For the first time since my mother’s relapse, I don’t feel so alone.

From inside the house Teo rumbles something that makes everyone laugh. I should be in there. After all I’m family. But it feels nice to have some peace given the chaos of this past week. And as much as I shouldn’t go there, it’s more than a little awesome to be here with Finn.

He’s arrogant, bordering on obnoxious, straddling sexy and rugged like they’re his bitches. But he has a heart, he proved as much all those years ago when he came to my recue. Remembering that night, how he took my hand and walked me out, makes me smile every time. Every time. He’s a nice guy, a genuinely good person. I only wish I could tell him as much.

I zip open my coat because the fire in the hearth is just that hot. But then against my better judgment I reach for his hand, carefully passing my fingertips over his knuckles. “How are you doing?” I ask. “You haven’t said much about you.”

He flips his hand over, threading our fingers together. Before tonight, he never struck me as the touchy-feely type. I guess I was wrong. “I’m all right,” he says after a breath.

I don’t think he is. Not if he’s seeing Mason. If anything, he’s about as good as I am. “You sure?”

He waits to answer. “Life can be a real bitch,” he admits.

“Yes, he can,” I agree, causing him to laugh.

He quiets after a moment, the way he takes me in making me feel like he’s wrestling with what to tell me. “Do you know what happened with me? Why I’m in counseling?” He frowns when I shake my head. “I thought you would, seeing where you work.”

His stance is rigid, as if he’s expecting me to judge him. But of course I don’t. “It’s against the law to read files of clients I’m not directly involved with or to even discuss their cases.” I brush away my messy hair with my free hand, but it’s probably pointless. “Cute” flipped me off the moment my hair band snapped.

“So you don’t know anything about me?” he asks. “Nothing at all?”

I think I surprise us both when my thumb strokes the back of his hand. “I’ll only ever know what you tell me.”

“Okay,” he says. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?” I ask, crinkling my brow.

Although he’s grinning, I don’t miss the edge behind his words, and maybe the underlying warning he feels he needs to share. “Why you’re sitting here beside me, and not looking for an excuse to get away.”

Teo once told me that no matter my smile, my eyes have a way of giving away my sadness. I believed him. I wonder as I stare at Finn―a guy who’s so heartbreakingly gorgeous and who possesses a grin capable of halting me in place―if he can see that sadness I know must be there. “Is it that bad?” I ask.

He turns his attention in the direction of the flames. “Yeah. It is,” he answers quietly.

“Do you want me to tell you?” he asks after a moment.

“No.”

I mean what I say. Most women would push until he spilled something juicy―eager for a shock or thrill. But I don’t. A shock or thrill at the expense of someone who’s been hurt sucks. If I know anything, it’s that.

“No?” he asks, laughing.

I grin because his smile and that dimple make it hard not to. But as my words come, my smile fades. “I don’t ever want you to tell me anything you don’t want me to know.”

“So there’ll be a next time in case I want tell you? Another time with you and me like this?” he asks, motioning to our hands.

“Maybe,” I say, before thinking things through.

“Yeah?” he asks, his stare darkening in a way that means trouble. “You know,” he says at the sight of my lips parting. “There are ways I can keep you warm that have nothing to do with this fire.”

“Ah,” I respond, as my girl parts tighten with a resounding, “hell, yeah.”

I don’t know what he sees in my expression, but it cracks him up. He leans in, lifting my chin so his mouth lingers just a few millimeters from his. “You really know how to make a guy feel wanted,” he murmurs.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” I stammer.

“Kissing?” he asks, his mouth so close his warm breath tickles my skin. “Or touching?” he adds, his hand gliding along my thigh.

My body shudders with a burst of mind-numbing desire. Holy Madonna and baby Jesus clinging to her leg. How is it possible for him to get me this worked up with just his words . . . and that deep voice . . . and that face? As it is, my nipples are saluting him like he’s their new leader.

“Did you get any snow in your jeans sitting out here?” he asks, his sly grin telling me he’s enjoying watching me squirm. “If so, I could help you get it out.”

“Finn . . .”

“Normally, I wouldn’t offer,” he whispers. “But you seem like a nice girl so I thought I’d help you out.”

His comment makes me smile, and maybe gives me a little courage, too. “Is that right?”

“Damn straight,” he says. “I meant what I said. That kiss I gave you is just a taste of what’s to come.”

“What if I don’t want another taste?” I ask, obviously lying to both of us.

“Maybe you don’t want it now. But you will.”

I avert my chin. “You really are something else.”

“No. More like just confident, especially after I caught you looking at my ass.”

I gasp, insulted, even though I might have stolen a peek or three. “I was actually looking at your dimple. On your face,” I clarify.

“Not my ass?” he asks as if shocked. “Most girls stare at my ass. What’s wrong with you?”

Again, all I can do is laugh.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Before I stare at your ass? Finn, I’m not like those other women―the ones who fall all over you when you look at them.” Who am I kidding? By now it’s clear that I am.

Although he’s been grinning and laughing right along with me, his demeanor softens then in a way holds me in place and freezes time. “Maybe that’s why I like you,” he says, no longer joking.

My mouth pops open. He
likes
me? As in, doesn’t just want to have sex with me? Okay, that may have made him that much hotter.

Someone flips on the exterior lights, drawing our attention back to the house. The doors leading into the man cave slide open and out runs Mattie across the patio and into the large yard. Evie hurries behind him carrying Lynnie. “Sorry,” she says, adjusting her little daughter’s hat when she places her down. “They’re getting restless in there. Would you mind watching them? I’m hoping if they play in the snow it will tire them out and I’ll be able to put them to bed.”

I stand, reaching for what has to be the prettiest little girl on the planet. Like Evelyn, she has fair skin and white-blond hair. I think Evie wanted to name her Arabella or something like that. But since Mattie is technically Mateo Jr., Teo insisted his daughter be called Evelyn like her mother―especially once it was clear she was Evie’s mini-me. Evie agreed only if her nickname was Lynnie, claiming she wanted to be the only Evie in Teo’s life.

“Of course we’ll watch them,” I say, smiling when Lynnie wraps her little hand around my fingers.

Finn jogs after Mattie as I walk Lynnie out into the yard, taking in the way her little boots press into the snow. Evie smiles softly as she watches her little girl explore. Yet it’s the way Finn starts chasing and playing with Mattie that widens her grin.

“Ev, what are you doing, babe?” Teo calls from the doorway. “It’s too cold out there for you.”

It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a coat, or standing near a fire hot enough to melt steel. Teo is just
that
protective of her.

“I’ll be right in, love,” she calls over her shoulder.

“He adores you,” I tell her, smiling.

“The feeling is mutual,” she assures me, her delicate features revealing her love for him.

“I know you have a lot going on,” she says, watching as Lynnie places snow in my hands. “But I was wondering if you’d be available to watch our babies on Wednesday night. Teo and I were given tickets to a show, and I’d really like to go if we can.”